If
by lizhowhp
Summary: Lauren has a pregnancy scare. Het: Lauren/Puck. One-Shot. Set in s3.


**A/N:** Posted at my livejournal on June 5, 2011, and was written for a prompt on the _glee_angst_meme_ comm.

* * *

><p>She's looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, taking in the pallor of her skin, when Tina slinks up to her and says, "Do you have any, um, well, you know."<p>

Tina looks embarrassed, but she has this awkward smile on her face, like she's bonding with Lauren or something. Lauren doesn't get it so she doesn't smile back, raising an eyebrow instead. "Uh, no, I don't know. Clarify and _then_ I'll know."

The other girl squirms uncomfortably before she sighs and rolls her eyes. "Fine, make me say it! A tampon. Do you have a tampon?"

Because that would've been so hard to say from the beginning, Lauren thinks with her own eye roll. However, she dutifully reaches into her satchel and takes out the little bundle she never leaves at home. "Take your pick, Cohen-Chang."

Her own cycle is sort of a stubborn bitch, which she thinks is very appropriate in that it matches her personality, but, damn, is it inconvenient. She'd tried to keep track of it, but there had been no magical number, no common denominator twenty-eight; instead, she knows a general range. The gyno had declared her a-okay, so it really isn't anything more than an annoying surprise. She always carries around her little pouch of tampons, and that's that.

As Tina gives back the bag, Lauren frowns and realizes that it's been way over a month since she's had her last period. She pulls out her phone and does some quick counting on the electric calendar, feeling faint when she realizes she's two weeks later than she's ever been. It's easy to lose track of your period when it's so irregular, but Lauren can't believe how she hadn't realized until she'd pretty much been forcibly reminded.

She's been feeling a little queasy for the past few days, hence the reason why she's willingly in a McKinley High bathroom. But that's down to the tuna casserole her mom had made on Monday, though, isn't it? Sure, she and Puck have slept together a fair amount of times, definitely in the double digits, but they've only done it without condoms a handful of times. She can't be pregnant—a couple of times doesn't really mean anything in the long term, right?

Quinn Fabray had gotten pregnant on her first time. Puckerman had been the one to do it.

She thinks about all the awesome sex she's been having, about how it doesn't seem so awesome anymore, about how not so literally fucked she possibly is. But what should she have expected? She'd taken an idiot who'd said, "I had a vasectomy, baby; I don't want anymore kids. And I haven't seen any boils or shit, so we'll be good this once," for his word. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Thanks so much, Lauren! You saved me from the makeshift pad!" Tina says. She's smiling and relieved and definitely not pregnant.

"I don't care!" Lauren snaps.

She throws the pouch of tampons in her bag and stomps out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>She skips fourth period because she shares it with Puckerman. At the beginning of the year, about a week after they'd officially started dating, Puck had forced the kid who sat next to her to change seats, and the thought of that stupid mohawk is enough to make her fists clench. She doesn't know what she'll do when she actually sees his face.<p>

So instead of sitting in geography for fifty minutes, Lauren sits in the little tech room just to the left of the auditorium stage. It's the A/V club's domain, and she's the ruler of that realm. It's completely quiet. She feels like that's what she needs right now, the space to just _think_.

She pulls a bottle of water of her bag and sips at it, even though liquids are strictly prohibited in this room. Her stomach is churning, and the water does little to calm it. Maybe the ache in the pit of her belly isn't nerves, maybe it's a baby.

Lauren puts a hand low on her stomach and presses down. It doesn't feel any different than any other day, still soft, no baby shaped protrusions. If she is pregnant—and _if_ is the most important word there—she'll probably have a little more time to hide it than skinny Quinn had. It'd be a good thing, too, as she can't imagine telling her mom and pop that she's pregnant, not when she's seventeen. They wouldn't kick her out or anything, but they'd be so disappointed. They fight for her, for her dreams, when she needs them to, and being pregnant would be the end of _Zizes by Lauren Zizes _and any other aspiration she has.

Of course, there are other options.

She'd manned the lights for New Directions at their invitational two years ago with Rosie, one of her less sniveling minions, and they'd talked unabashed shit on a pregnant Quinn Fabray. "If I was her," Rosie had said, grinning, "I'd scramble that egg real quick." Lauren had laughed and agreed. But it doesn't seem so funny now.

She's one hundred percent pro-choice—a woman's body is her own, _thank fucking you_—and she'd always thought she'd have no problems with abortion if she needed one. Lauren Zizes was going places, and a baby wasn't conducive to that. But now…Well, it's all really different when it's actually a possibility.

God, Lauren tells herself, just _shut the hell up_.

Maybe silence isn't what she needs after all; thinking is the last thing she wants to do right now.

* * *

><p>Lauren goes to the rest of her classes and lunch. No one notices that she's quiet, and they don't say anything if they do. The fear she'd instilled in her peers finally seems to be paying off.<p>

She sees the back of Puck's head once in the hallway, and she ducks into a janitor's closet even though there's really no chance he'll see her in the pre-lunch rush. In the closet, Jacob Ben Israel has his hand up some freshman's skirt. Lauren scowls at the pair of them and hisses _slut _before she leaves.

She'd usually be the first one to raise a fist in solidarity, but sex seems tainted in some horrific way. It's bad enough being possibly impregnated by Noah Puckerman, but Lauren could imagine that little girl jumping off a bridge if her belly ever got full with Jacob's kid.

She ends up spending her lunch period in the bathroom, throwing up. She's not sure if she's sick because of food poisoning, because she's pregnant, or because even the thought of being pregnant is enough to induce vomiting.

* * *

><p>Today's glee club meeting is supposed to be an important one. Sectionals are coming up, and Schue swears that their key to success is preparing early. Of course, that means two weeks instead of one, but whatever, Lauren needs the distraction. She'll gladly put up with the inevitable squabbles and bitch fests.<p>

Puck tries to suck on her earlobe, so she gets up and moves to a seat in the back row of the risers. He looks at her, confused, offended. Santana snickers and says, "Honeymoon over?"

"After last year's, uh, incident at nationals," Schue starts, glancing at an unrepentant Rachel and Finn, "I think we should definitely keep it PG, maybe a little wholesome. For our ballad, I was thinking Creed's 'With Arms Wide Open.' We can get some really good harmonies on that."

You have _got_ to be kidding, she thinks, feeling an intense urge to bury her head in her hands. Not only is it an awful song by a terrible band, but it's about a fucking baby. Why not, right? Let's have Puckerman sing it and call it a day. Her throat tightens, and she's not sure if it's hysterical laughter or the onset of tears.

Thankfully, Hummel refuses to even take the sheet music, which starts an anti-Creed movement that crushes Mr. Schue's song choice. Lauren takes a few deep breaths while they all fight, and she's able to push the hysteria down.

Puck's staring at her now. His eyebrows are furrowed, which is his thinking face. She avoids looking at him and feels as awkward as she had when he'd sung "Fat Bottomed Girls" to her.

She'll have to talk to him eventually, she knows. If she actually is pregnant, well, then it's pretty obvious why he'll need to know, but in the meantime, she does need him, if only for his car. She's going to need a ride to the closest CVS, pick up a pregnancy test or ten. It's not like she can ask her parents for a lift.

When everybody gets up to practice choreography to some song they'd all voted on when she'd been zoned out, Puck comes up to her. He puts a hand on her upper arm, rubbing his thumb in little circles, and quietly says, "What's up, Lauren? Talk to me, hot mama."

She punches him before she even realizes she's lifted her arm. The force of it makes him stagger to the left, and he holds a hand to his jaw, staring at her angrily. "What the _fuck_?"

"Lauren!" Schue yells. "Principal's office! Now!"

The rest of the glee club is staring at her. She ignores them, ignores Schue, ignores Puck, and leaves the choir room. She has no intention of going to Figgins' office—it's not like he'll punish her, he never does, too intimidated by her well practiced glare—but she doesn't feel like sticking around in this hellhole of a building either.

* * *

><p>Lauren ends up sitting on a bench near the school's parking lot. It's doubtful that she'll get a ride from Puck now, which means she'll have to call her parents. She really doesn't want to see them right now, so she just sits on the bench, staring at her shoes. Eighth period is close to over, almost all of the school gone, and she's stuck with silence once again.<p>

She read once that it takes at least a quarter of million dollars to raise a child. How is she going to manage that? She's not sure what she wants to go to college for, but she thinks about pro wrestling, about overhauling the fashion industry, about record contracts. If she is pregnant, she'll have to get a job immediately. With things the way they are in Lima, the best she can hope for is an entry level position at McDonald's and a promotion in a few years. Fries are good, sure, but she doesn't want to spend her entire day around them.

That's not to mention the fact that she's sort of unrepentantly selfish. She wants to buy three mink coats with her first big payday, not diapers. She can't be pregnant. She just can't.

And then there's Puck to think of. Will he be there for her? She'd had an outsider's point of view of Quinn's pregnancy, but it hadn't seemed like Puck had been around much. Even now, being friends with both of them, being exclusive with Puck, she's not sure how that situation went down. Nobody brings it up, like it didn't happen.

She ends up burying her head in her hands, eyes clenched shut, telling herself to stop thinking of the future. She's not even sure if she is pregnant, so she really needs to stop imagining the worst case scenario.

"Uh, Lauren? Um, are you, uh, okay?"

Her eyes open, but she keeps her hands over her face. Great, she thinks. Finn Hudson is here to play hero. Well, she's not a damsel in distress—well, fine, maybe she is in distress, but there's no way she's a fucking damsel.

"Do you need a ride home?" Hummel asks. She lowers her hands and looks up at him. "Puck flew out of here a few minutes ago, and I know he's your ride nowadays."

Hudson and his sometimes bravado usually annoy her, but she can stand Hummel. He'd given her some solid fashion advice at last year's prom, which makes him good people in her book. Besides, she _does _need a ride.

"Could you take me to CVS first?"

Hudson opens his mouth, ready to stammer out something that'll undoubtedly get him hit faster than she'd decked Puckerman, but Hummel shoots him a look and nods. "That can be managed."

"Thanks," she says as she stands. Hudson opens his mouth again, but she speaks before he can, saying, "Usually I'd say this in some sassy way that'd probably confuse you, but I really can't today, so just shut your pie hole. Capisce?"

He nods, looking properly cowed.

* * *

><p>They've been sitting in the CVS parking lot for ten minutes. Lauren's sitting in the back seat, playing with her cuticles, and the two boys are in the front seats, obviously trying not to look at her.<p>

"Uh, we're here," Hudson says for the second time. When she glares at him, he quickly looks down at his feet.

"Lauren," Hummel says with a lot more delicacy than his step-brother had, "what are we here for? Do you have a prescription to pick up or something?"

From the look on his face, Hummel thinks she has some disease or something that's making her so quiet. That seems like a better deal somehow, because then at least she'll _know _if her life's bound to suck or not. But knowing is only a few steps and a few dollars away, and she finds herself frozen with fear.

Finally, after debating with herself for a solid five minutes, she says, "I'm late. Like really, really late."

Hummel's eyes widen while Hudson's scrunch with confusion. She doesn't feel monumentally better at sharing the information, but her chest feels a teeny bit looser now that she's not carrying this burden entirely alone.

"Oh, Lauren," Hummel breathes out. "But I thought Puck had a vasectomy?"

She shrugs helplessly, and for the first time in this horribly bad day, her eyes become watery. The urge to cry becomes stronger and stronger with each passing second. Eventually, Lauren gives in and starts sobbing. Usually she'd be horrified at herself, making such a fool out of herself in front of others, but she doesn't really care that she's making noises like a dying animal and snot is dripping from her nose.

As she cries into her hands, one of the car's doors opens and closes and then another opens and closes again, and she's being hugged. It's Kurt, she knows, because he's smaller than her and he smells good. She just cries into his chest and lets him hug her.

Her tears eventually turn into small hiccups. Kurt takes her foggy glasses off and wipes them on his shirt before sliding them back onto her nose. It's really nice, being treated as if she's one of his girls.

"Um, so I totally understand what's going on now," Hudson chimes in from the passenger seat. He looks genuinely sympathetic now, and Lauren doesn't glare at him out of habit only because she forces herself not to. After all, he probably understands what she's feeling now more than Kurt does.

"I just wanted to say that Puck totally did get that vasic—vasectatomy thing. Um, so maybe you're not pregnant! Maybe you're, uh, _late_ because your parts don't work or something." His eyes widen and he begins to babble, saying, "Oh, my God, I should not have said that. I just jinxed you! What if you have girl cancer now? I'm so sorry!"

"Finn? Shut up," Kurt says, not looking up from his phone. Lauren would normally snap at him for texting when she's having a meltdown, but she's too astounded by Hudson's stupidity to do more than move her mouth.

Kurt gives her his phone, a webpage displayed on it, and says, "Read," with a frown on his face. She does.

_Question: I think I'm pregnant but my husband had a vasectomy?_

_Answer #1: There's usually a second appointment after the procedure where the doctor sees if he's still producing sperm. Did your husband go to this? However, pregnancies have been known to happen even with a successful procedure._  
><em>Answer rated 100%<em>

_Answer #2: my hubby had one 3yrs ago and we've had 2 healthy beautiful babies since! you should realize you've been blessed! congratz! :)_  
><em>Answer rated 75%<em>

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Lauren mutters.

Kurt gives her a small smile. He takes his phone back and nods to the store. "Let's go get this over with, huh?"

* * *

><p>She ends up going to the Hudson-Hummel household to actually take the test. After she and Kurt had bought the three pregnancy tests, Finn had asked Lauren if she'd wanted to go home. She'd started crying.<p>

Kurt has an en-suite bathroom, so she goes in there with the plastic bag from the store and her heart in her throat. She reads the instructions, does what she has to do, and lays the three used pregnancy tests on the rim of the sink.

"It says three minutes," she tells Kurt when she re-enters his bedroom. She doesn't think she wants to be alone for this, though she's not really sure what she does or doesn't want right now.

He nods. "I think it'll all be alright either way. I mean, if you're not pregnant, great, but if you are, well, you do have options. I know we're not the closest of friends, but I promise I'll be there for you how ever you need me."

It's sort of weird, being so chuffed, because she's pretty sure Kurt Hummel had just promised her that he'd hold her hand through an abortion. But, really, she doesn't want to think of abortions right now. She doesn't want to think of adoption or cradling a little Puckerman-Zizes hybrid.

She's thinking of how much she despises Lima. She's thinking of her parents and how they cheer the loudest at her wrestling meets. She's thinking of how much she likes Puck but isn't sure they'll end up married one day. She's thinking of making a seven figure salary and partying it up with Robert Pattinson. She's thinking of how awesome it'll be to have a family of her own one day. That day's way in the future, though, when she's not seventeen years-old.

She can't have a baby right now, but it's not even just a matter of can or can not; she knows she doesn't _want _to be pregnant.

"Time," Kurt says.

So Lauren walks into the bathroom, her hands shaking, and screams with joy at the sight of three single lines.

* * *

><p>Kurt walks her out of his house, his keys dangling from his hand. He's going to take her home so Lauren doesn't have to call her parents for a ride—because even though she's not pregnant and never has to tell them how worried she'd been that she was, she's still feeling incredibly shaken and knows she won't be able to sit in her parents' car for the ten minute drive without sobbing.<p>

The wonderful feeling of relief vanishes as soon as she takes a step out the front door. Standing on the porch, looking solemn next to an antsy Finn Hudson, is Noah Puckerman. That _prick_, she thinks, ready to gut Hudson and his big mouth. Kurt looks surprised, which means Lauren doesn't have to take him down, too.

"I'll drive you home," Puck says. He nods his head at Kurt. "Thanks for taking care of her."

Kurt looks at her, smiles, and squeezes her shoulder before he pulls Hudson into the house. As the oaf passes, Lauren bares her teeth and he looks like he's about to shit himself. It brings her a moment of satisfaction before she realizes she's alone with the guy she thought could be her baby daddy.

She follows him silently to his car. His expression and the way he's carrying himself is odd. She can't quite pin down what he's feeling, but she's grateful to note that the skin she struck earlier in the day isn't even red.

They both stay quiet until he turns into an empty Sherwin-Williams parking lot. He turns off the ignition and shuffles a little before he says, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What does it even matter? I'm not…" she stops, realizing she hasn't even said the word aloud, before finishing it, the two syllables odd on her lips, "pregnant."

"It matters because you shouldn't have had to go through that alone! It matters because you _punched_ me instead of just telling me! It matters because it would've been _my _baby!"

Lauren scoffs and rolls her eyes. She's had a helluva day, and she doesn't think she can muster up sympathy for him. "Please. Do you think I'm the first girl you've made go through this? Quinn had to go through it alone, and I'm pretty sure with how much you've gotten around that a few other girls have had to do it alone, too."

He just looks at her for a long moment before he turns attention out the windshield, holding his jaw stiff. Finally, he says, voice low, "Yeah, but it matters because it's you. I care about you, Lauren. I mean, fuck, I hear people saying I'm whipped or whatever all the time, but I let it slide off my back because I love you. It's not…This isn't just some girl I fucked thinking she's pregnant; it's _you_."

And what is there to say to that? Nothing, because she's certainly not going to tell him she loves him—she's not sure she does, and she isn't about to be pressured into anything—but she's not going to discourage him either.

"Don't get me wrong: I'm really happy you're not pregnant. It's not something I want to deal with right now, but if you were pregnant, I promise you that I'd step up to the plate." Puck grabs her hand and holds it, rubbing little circles with his thumb like he had in glee. He kisses her, just a chaste peck, and asks, "So, am I ever getting in your panties again?"

Lauren laughs. She leans her head against the window and just laughs from the bottom of her belly as she takes in his amused smile. Laughing feels amazingly good right now.

"Possibly not," she says. "Definitely not for a very, very long time. But you're taking me to Planned Parenthood tomorrow so I can get the pill, and you're gonna have to start wearing condoms if you wanna even _look _at me."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Yep. Now take me home; I've had a really long day."

* * *

><p>Two days later, she stays home with her pop, both of them sick as dogs because of Monday's tuna casserole, and she gets her period as it nears bedtime.<p>

Her mom says, "Oh, honey. Sick and now you have _that _to worry about, too."

Lauren shrugs and says, "It could be worse."

**The End**


End file.
